Walter, listen to reason... You're facing charges
of improper operation of a motor vehicle,
destruction of private property,
and costing the county six figures to rescue you
from a cliff-side Ferrari.
The city of L.A. did not rescue me... it was Cabe Gallo.
Less is more in court.
As your counsel, I am begging you,
just present this plea.
"On the date in question, I, Walter Patrick O'Brien,
"was driving negligently as a result of being
"in an overly emotional state, and hence,
the accident..." That was not me.
- That's not what happened. - I've talked
to your coworkers... you got in a fight with her,
raced out, drove like a maniac...
I was driving a high- performance sports car
- when a coyote... - That you would have missed
if you'd been in a proper state of mind.
I was just driving fast... I was not emotional.
- Come on, Walter. - If you state you were
just driving fast for the hell of it,
then you're reckless, not negligent... reckless
carries 90 days in jail.
I do not get emotional
to that extent.
I will only state facts.
- I will not lie in court. - Well, you have until night court
at 8:00 this evening to reconsider,
or you're in an orange jumper before bedtime.
And that, Mr. O'Brien, is a fact.
Since Happy sidelined me, I'm bored as all get-out.
In! 22 of 23.
What's that?
"I value our relationship.
You're a dear friend. Best, Sylvester Dodd."
This is sadder than Old Yeller.
I'm telling Megan how I feel.
Then it should read: I feel lame.
I've read hotter sympathy cards.
You seriously need help.
Hey, how'd it go up there?
Don't ask.
I have complete control of my legal affairs.
Everything is fine.
Try to talk some sense into him.
If this doesn't get resolved, Walter could face
jail time... my anxiety levels are rising, guys.
My God, that's it... anxiety levels!
I'm gonna fix your romance problems
by manipulating your anxiety levels.
- I don't have romance problems. - And I don't have
incredible dance moves. Now, since my calendar
is apparently wide open, thanks to Ms. Quinn,
- you're my new project. - No, thank you.
When I'm done, you'll be a regular honey-dripper.
I am gonna crank your stress levels up to a 20
on a scale of one to ten... it's exposure therapy.
- I don't think I'd like that. - When you go
back down to an anxiety level of ten, it's gonna feel
like a one, and you'll be pitching woo like Valentino.
Have I ever lied to you?
All of the time.
Excuse me.
How can we help you?
I can't believe it's you.
It's been so long.
I'm sorry, do... do we know each other?
50 bucks on love child.
I'm Sonia Balasevic.
You saved my life.
It's been 20 years.
20... That's a lot of back child support.
FBI sent me to Croatia
to take witness statements
for genocide tribunals against Milosevic's men.
They killed hundreds of thousands of my people.
Including my parents.
Camps overflowed with injured children.
I saw Sonia... in all that hell,
the only kid with a smile left in her.
I couldn't let her
wind up in some orphanage.
Orphanages suck.
Made a few calls,
found an Italian couple that worked
at the U.S. consulate in Rome
who wanted to adopt.
I greased the wheels.
And he saved me.
Three days after I met him, he put me on a jeep,
kissed my forehead and sent me off
to a better life...
but not before giving me this.
You never mentioned
you got a Silver Star.
Men don't talk about their medals.
The translator told me that Cabe got it for bravery,
and that he wanted me to have it because I was brave.
That's why I'm here now.
I went to The Hague, Interpol...
no one will help. Then I think,
go find the bravest man you know.
Exactly what help do you need, Sonia?
24 of the top Serbian war criminals...
never found.
They've run for decades, thanks to "Ratline""
a network of resources
that lets them hide around the world.
I've dedicated my life to tracking them...
and I know where one of them is.
Stanislav Zoric... he killed my family.
General Zoric is a munitions expert.
Constantly changes
his appearance, uses fake identities,
moves often.
I saw those mass graves.
I never stopped thinking about those bastards, either.
Good. 'Cause I know how to get him.
He has the Ratline...
I have the Survivors Hopeline...
genocide victims around the world
sharing information.
Last week, one sent me
a photo of Zoric in Havana.
But The Hague won't help.
Well, the photo's blurry.
I know the man who massacred my village,
but The Hague won't issue an international warrant
without a DNA match proving it's him.
Well, a contact
got me Zoric's bloodstained uniform
from the Sarajevo Historical Society.
We get the DNA sample,
match it... he faces justice.
As do the 23 other men
who are still hiding.
How does catching Zoric catch them?
It's rumored he carries an encrypted electronic ledger
containing aliases of the other 23.
Safe houses,
bank accounts, contacts for fake passports.
Better move fast, Sonia.
Running a complete genome sequence
takes days under ideal circumstances.
And if Zoric suspects he's been made,
he'll be on the move again soon.
This only works if we amp up the standard sequencer algorithm
and put it in a device that runs that DNA test in seconds.
Sylvester and I could code that
in two hours.
I could build the device in an hour.
I could vomit right now. Are you suggesting we consider
extracting a dangerous war criminal
from a Communist nation?
That's what I'm suggesting, yes.
That was the girl's village.
The man who gave the order was Zoric.
He made scores of these propaganda films.
Homeland's well aware of Zoric and his cronies, but...
the bottom line is the U.S. government
will not support a mission to capture these men
with nothing more to go on
than an out-of-focus photo and her memory.
Come on, Director, we can find two dozen
of these war criminals...
but not without your support.
I understand the situation,
and I am... not without sympathy.
Unfortunately, there is nothing
for Homeland to do.
: There are Cuban nationals...
double agents... our friends
for the right price.
They can get the sample for you.
The Hague'll want a blood sample... no skin, no hair,
nothing that could be compromised by cosmetic chemicals.
Now, you test that blood in your device,
contact The Hague, and get the arrest warrant.
The Cubans will take care of Zoric,
his ledger and your backsides.
Get the hell out of there, because...
and I cannot stress this enough...
if you are caught on Cuban soil
operating a quasi- governmental extraction
without permission, the U.S. government
will deny any knowledge of this operation.
I will say you acted alone, and you will be abandoned.
They can't have an international incident on their hands
when the White House is trying to repair relations with Castro.
I'm gonna owe you big for this, aren't I?
Absolutely.
And I collect on my favors.
Also, I really don't like what I saw in this video.
Okay, but how
are we gonna get in and out of Cuba without authorization?
I know a guy.
So how do you know Agent Molina?
She prosecuted me for drug running.
I turned state's, so I only served, like, three years.
Very classy lady.
Sly's gonna love this.
The guy flying this 30-year-old bucket of bolts?
A drug felon.
Embrace level 15, pal.
How's it going?
Hardware's almost done.
I've got this code turbocharged.
We use a nanopore sequence technique,
pump up the DNA unzip, and then we should know
if the suspect is Zoric within 6.2 seconds.
That's scientific. Makes me wonder
why someone so logical would agree to take
such a dangerous case that isn't even supported by Homeland.
Well, it's pure logic.
100,000 people killed by 24 bad men...
logic dictates that if the bad men can be caught,
then the greater good advances.
It's 100,000 versus one, Paige.
It simple math.
You know, you apply your theories selectively,
because if you followed logic, you would have
just admitted to your lawyer that you acted emotionally
- and you would take the plea. - You cannot state non-facts.
Well, I-I think you're denying facts.
Agree to disagree.
Your friend's wound tighter
than a snare drum... if she doesn't keep her cool,
we'll all wind up guests
- of the Castro brothers forever. - That's why you're here.
You keep her level.
You apply your theory selectively.
You say that I lack emotion, but she's too emotional
and both are a problem... you're inconsistent.
- Well, agree to disagree. - All right, it's time for the drop.
Drop?
Don't you mean "land"?
Drug runners
don't land... we make drops!
We're only 20 feet above the water. Ten seconds!
Waterproof bag! Get your gear in!
Hey, uh, I don't see any parachutes.
You knew we were gonna jump and you didn't tell me?
Well, if I did, you wouldn't have come.
Don't worry.
We bought you a change of clothes.
It's like jumping off a really high diving board
that's going a hundred miles an hour.
Exposure therapy!
Yahoo!
Go!
Go.
Paige.
I'm not going!
I can't do this!
- You go without me! - Son,
have I ever put you in an unsafe situation?
All the time.
- Then you should be used to it! - No, no, no, no, no, no!
== sync, corrected by elderman == WEB-DL resync by kinglouisxx www.addic.
Oh, I've got sand in my pants.
Me, too. Kind of like it.
No.
Feels like... I'm wearing a snow globe.
What?
Hmm? Nothing. Just glad that everyone's... okay.
That was... harrowing.
Thanks.
We got company!
Everybody just stay cool.
Okay...
nobody move.
By the authority of the National Revolutionary Police Force,
you are hereby all under arrest.
We're just lost, friend.
Lost? Or infiltrating
my motherland without permission?
We're the contact Agent Molina set up, huh?
I'm Alfonso. I'm just messing with you.
Welcome to Cuba, amigos.
Oh, God.
- Now I have more than sand in my pants. - I hope
you plan on taking the rest of this mission more seriously.
Relax. Relax.
We have been trailing Zoric ever since Molina called.
- How will you extract his blood? - We follow him,
we bump him with a cane that has a small needle on it.
We prick the blood. Zoric just thinks the cane banged his foot.
You take the DNA, you test it
while we keep him in sight
and you do your thing with your little machine.
Call The Hague, we'll get an immediate warrant.
Uh-huh. My men will grab him,
take him to a plane, you're on your way home.
And with the time difference, you'll be back for supper.
Okay, we've got the comms set up... do you copy?
We copy.
Everything set up over there?
We have eyes out on Alfonso and his boys
across the street.
As soon as they get the sample, Walter runs it,
you call The Hague for the warrant.
Any sign of Zoric?
Not yet.
But the Cubans' intel
puts him in the area.
Sonia, I know you're anxious,
but I want you to know I want this guy
almost as much as you do.
Is that him?
With no security, no guards?
War criminals on the run... they travel light.
They don't want to draw attention.
One of the Cubans is getting out of the back seat.
They must think that's our guy, too.
Walter?!
Cabe, what's happening?
Do you copy? What is happening?
- Are you guys okay? - Not really.
There was an explosion.
Car just blew up.
Zoric must've known he was being followed.
Our contacts...
they're all dead.
What about Zoric? Where's Zoric?!
I'm sorry, Sonia. He disappeared.
Zoric must've planted the bomb.
He's a munitions expert.
It's not like he hasn't built explosives before.
This is why I don't leave America.
Do you know what'll happen to us if we get blamed for that bomb?
There's no way
- to connect us to those murders. - Bigger issue.
We're in a dictatorship with 1955 technology.
Whole county runs on 200 mbps
for 11 million people.
I get 300 in my apartment.
The tech here is practically unusable.
It's definitely unhackable.
He's right. We're mortals here.
It's like the whole island is Kryptonite.
Adriana's a woman of her word.
We're on our own.
In seven hours, that pilot will be waiting
in a field a few miles from here.
If we miss that flight,
we have no way back.
But we're still after Zoric, right?
- There's still time to catch him. - But how?
We were only supposed to use our software
and our devices to test the DNA.
To actually go in and gather the sample...
it's a whole new magilla.
Then we come up with a new plan!
We came here to do a job. We're not leaving until it's finished.
We're gonna
capture Zoric, I promise.
First thing we gotta do
is figure out how to track him down.
For that, we'll need wheels.
I'll go steal us a van.
For whoever you rob.
I hope you like plantains.
It's pretty much the entire menu at a Cuban prison.
- I'm at a 20, okay? - Oh, not even close.
I'm sorry, pal... I gotta be cruel to be kind.
Other times, I think I'm close to finding him, he ties
loose ends, and he's off to another country within 48 hours.
- We must move fast! - Hey, you got to get
the lay of the land here in Havana so
we know what we're working with.
Are you kidding me? This is slower than dial-up.
- For Pete's sake! - What's he doing?
Memorizing the Cuba Reference Guide.
Okay, done.
Havana has 15 districts,
subdivided in 105 wards.
He could be anywhere.
Oh, a guy like Zoric wouldn't hang his hat just anywhere.
A genocidal maniac considers most others inferior.
He'd want a haunt with other European ex-pats.
Not too crowded, lest he get spotted.
Not too small, lest he stand out.
Okay, six districts meet your criteria.
For a quick escape, he'd live near water.
Okay, that narrows it down to three neighborhoods...
Alimar and Cojimar... working-class enclaves.
And Miramar... upscale.
Zoric is a man of luxury.
- Our best shot is Miramar. - Okay.
So, he'll want to change his appearance.
His most distinguishing feature is his beard. That'll go first.
He'll most likely cut his hair, dye it.
If you want it
to pass, you don't use a do-it-at-home kit.
You use a pro.
Guidebook lists four barbershops in Miramar.
He'll go to one that's
well-regarded, but small enough it won't be too crowded.
Ernesto's. Four-star rating, only two chairs.
Is it just me,
or is a barbershop a hell of a good place
to get a blood sample?
Okay...
The Hague's on standby.
They went ballistic when I told them we were down here.
If we get a DNA match, they'll issue an e-warrant,
and I'll arrest Zoric.
And if things go sideways, they never heard of us.
What we expected.
How comforting.
It's been over an hour, still no bad guy.
Maybe we should reevaluate our theory.
Zoric might still be taking care of business at home...
making calls to the Ratline,
destroying evidence. Just give him time.
How you holding up, Happy?
I'm in between two Dumpsters
that smell like sour death,
but I'm ready when the time comes.
Okay.
Looks like the time is now, gang.
Zoric is coming down the street.
Happy, get ready.
Doc, you sure this stuff'll work?
Yeah, as sure as I can be with anything
that I buy in a Cuban pharmacy, but,
in theory, the chemical from the occult blood test will
turn blue with any trace of blood
from the jar, without compromising it.
Then we can isolate it and run that DNA test.
Anything?
Nothing blue.
This old coot's got the hands of a surgeon.
Not so much as a nick.
Paige, turn the van on, press the accelerator,
then turn it off and floor it.
We're gonna startle Gramps with a backfire.
Nothing?
That is impossible.
Biology dictates a minimal startle-response
to a noise over 140 decibels.
Oh, God. Ernesto's deaf.
We can't shake the guy to draw blood.
We just have to go in and get it ourselves then.
There's a good chance.
Zoric is gonna be armed. You ready for this?
No.
All right, then I'll go first.
Guys...
remember, Ernesto might be deaf, but Zoric is not.
You need to be completely silent,
or else he'll know someone's in there with them.
Good point, Professor Obvious.
Walter, also remember... we're in Cuba, and the Earth is round.
If I could
hear that, then Zoric might hear it over the music.
Okay, if you see darker floorboards,
that means water damage.
There'll be more give and less creak.
Cabe disengaged Ernesto.
Walter just needs to press a touch too hard,
get that drop of blood, then we're good to go.
Guys, where's Sonia?
Uh, not good.
What is she thinking?
She could finally get revenge.
She's got the blade right on his jugular.
Get out!
Walter!
I don't know where you came from, but I know where
I'm sending you.
We know who you are, General Zoric.
Under the authority of The Hague, you're under arrest.
We're searching that address
on your fake Cuban license right now.
If we find that Ratline ledger
without any help from you,
there's nothing I can do for you.
But you tell us where it is, save us some time,
I'll tell Interpol you cooperated.
Speaking of time, three hours until our only way home
is wheels up.
Ledger?
Oh, I know the ledger you're talking about.
It's buried in a hole in Bosnia
under the bodies of her people.
Hey, Sonia! Sonia!
Listen to me. Listen to me.
Now, harming him before he gives us
the information that we need is illogical.
Okay? Now, your-your...
inability to contain your emotions earlier
almost got us killed, so please,
take a moment to gain control.
Logical thinking never results in mistakes like those.
Things aren't going well here.
How's it going at Zoric's apartment?
We'll be inside in five,
four, three...
I'm even better than I thought.
You okay?
He's never had to live
with what's inside of me...
my pain, my anger.
It's all I have!
It's what got us here.
It's what caught Zoric.
You're right.
Walter doesn't understand being driven by emotion.
He denies almost every feeling he has,
and it's an existence that isn't good for him.
But-but the other side of that coin,
being driven by unchecked emotion, it's just as bad.
There has to be some middle ground, otherwise,
the both of you... you'll never find balance.
Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Stupid bees!
What's he doing?
It appears he's picking flowers.
I'm still thirsty.
Screw you.
Will he taste it?
Ground nightshade petals have no taste,
but they have loads of scopolamine,
which modulates the nigrostriatal pathways
in the brain. In short, he'll mellow out
and be more susceptible to suggestion.
You didn't elude capture for 20 years by being dumb.
You got that ledger stashed away tight, keeping it safe.
You can bank on that.
I...
tell you nothing.
But you just told me something.
When I said "safe," you had no reaction,
so I doubt there's a safe hidden anywhere in your home
that Happy should be looking for.
But when I said "bank,"
your pupils dilated... a marker of recognition.
Because you recognized "bank" as the answer to my inquiry.
Yeah, Happy, the ledger is
in some deposit box.
Look for any bank records you can find.
Primer Banco de Cuba.
This country's most secure depository.
State-of-the-art. Guards armed to the hilt.
You sure that ledger's in there?
You told us to look for bank records.
Only thing I found in Zoric's apartment was this invoice
for a safe deposit box.
Only one option: I'm gonna go in that building
with a jacket draped over my arm,
put a gun to Zoric's back, and force him to give us the ledger.
If things jump off, you guys find the plane.
Don't look back.
You're letting your hatred of Zoric
and his men cloud your judgment.
Yes, I am.
And I'm still going in that bank.
It's Director Molina.
I don't care
how determined Cabe is, his bank plan won't work with homeboy
out cold here.
Oh, no. He's really down for the count.
I thought you said that those flowers
would only mellow him out.
That's all they should do.
You guys see any drugs or medicine in his apartment?
Just aspirin and cholesterol meds.
Atorvastatin in the meds and the scopolamine in the flowers
combined to make a sedative. He could be out for hours.
Well, that's a problem, because our plane leaves in 90 minutes.
- So can we now just go home? - No.
We need to get our hands on that ledger,
or 23 war criminals stay free.
Molina says that the Cuban police have put an alert out
on that SUV that blew up. Hotel security cameras
caught the identical SUV dropping us off earlier today.
An APB has been issued on all of us.
Oh, God.
- We're the most wanted people in Cuba. - Exactly.
So let's just get that ledger and get the hell out of here.
No argument here, but how exactly do we break
into Havana's most closely guarded bank, in broad daylight,
- during business hours? - Very carefully.
What do we have?
Vault's in the southwest corner of the building.
- We're really doing this? - We really don't
- have a choice. - Okay...
so we reconvene behind the bank in ten minutes.
If we don't gather what we need, we're dead in the water.
And Havana's crawling with federal police
looking for us, so don't get caught.
Okay, go.
Paige?
- Everyone's set. How say you? - That's good.
Got what we needed. Headed back.
All that's left is Sylvester coming through for us.
Big fella, you in position?
- Halfway up. - You're a liar.
You're on the ground and you know it.
Get up that pole!
Get those legs goin' up those rungs.
Don't rush me!
I am afraid of heights!
I'll stop when you tell me the truth.
Why are you so anxious
to communicate with Megan?
This is not the time!
- I kind of agree with him. - It's my business,
not yours, and I'm done with this stupid therapy game.
Uh, Sly, hey, where are you right now?
At the top of the pole.
Knew you could do it, buddy.
You guys nearly done yet?
Almost done with these aluminum foil shavings.
Got the rust.
Ferric oxide, you mean.
Since you're in the explaining mood, how the hell
- is this going to work again? - It's a...
noise canceller, so,
in theory, playing the sound
of the saw cutting through concrete, directly at the saw,
while it's actually cutting concrete,
the sound waves in the box will cancel each other out.
Instead of a loud roar, we'll get a muffled hum
only we can hear.
You said "in theory".
How 'bout reality?
In reality, it could sound like a freight train,
and then we wind up in prison.
Okay. Sylvester,
we need that alarm taken care of.
Okay, look for a 12-gauge wire
with four ridges, for motion detectors,
contact sensors, infrared,
and system integration, each 300 VRMs.
It should be wrapped in black PVC coating.
There's, like, 100 black wires in here
in no discernible order whatsoever.
Well, you better cut the right one, because if you kill
all the general electricity to the bank
instead of just the vault power,
we'll get alarm bells ringing all over the place.
Sylvester, you're a math genius. You can find patterns in anything.
Not in this rat's nest.
Whoever upgraded it just put new wires on top of old!
Okay, that is it.
Each layer of wires indicates a new stage
in Cuba's infrastructure,
starting with the new government in 1959.
It's like rings on a tree. Okay, I see
a blue Caribbean Unicom wire labeled FPLX-18.
Okay, FPLX technology was created in 2009.
The alarm sub-architecture indicated installation in '08.
So, one year earlier, which means the alarm will be
the outermost black wire beneath the blue one,
which is... this one.
I hope.
I'm cutting it.
Only one way to know if he was right.
No alarm. We're good.
Yeah.
Okay, Sylvester, get down and survey that bank.
They're making their initial breach now.
Sonia, why don't you come up here
and sit next to me.
I'm fine right here.
- It's not a request. - You don't trust me
with the prisoner? This scum?
Why do you care if I kill him?
You saw what he and his men did firsthand.
I saw what happens when hate rules.
And I don't want to see that happen to you.
And I don't want to see anybody but Zoric in handcuffs today.
So, please, kid,
come up here and exhale for a beat.
I know they killed a lot of people,
but I know they didn't kill the good in you.
Cabe, we're through the concrete.
All right.
We got to get in position for when they get off that roof.
Okay, now for chemistry class: Ferric oxide
and aluminum shavings create thermite.
Which, when ignited, burns with heat intense enough
to burn steel. Okay.
Well, I've been working with you guys for a while.
- I pick up things. - Okay.
Okay, she's done.
Good thing I had a big breakfast.
Come on, put a little stank on it.
I am not a piñata. Lower me down.
Okay.
I'm in.
Or not.
There's another box inside
with a high-tech thermal lock.
We need Zoric's thumbprint for access.
Problem is Zoric is passed out.
And our pilot's entering
Cuban airspace... he lands in 40 minutes and waits for five.
Bigger problem. The bank manager is bringing
a customer to the vault.
What?!
Don't worry; when I cut the alarm, the whole system reset.
He won't be able to get in.
Okay...
Unless he's doing a manual override with his keys,
which is exactly what it looks like he's doing.
So, Happy, you have less than two minutes
until you are caught in that vault.
Okay, pull me up.
Wait, we can't leave
without that ledger.
Okay, that's easy for you to say.
You're not the one about to go
to El Prison Fantástico.
We just need Zoric's thumbprint. How do we get it?
- Easy. Chop off his thumb. - No. No, no, no.
Removing his finger will stop the blood flow.
No, the temperature drops, and the thermal lock
would read the print as too cold... it won't work.
Holy bratwurst, I have an idea.
- Hold on, Hap, I'm gonna save you. - What?
I'm dead.
Hurry up, Cabe.
Find anything useful?
Yes.
Just what we need.
Uno chorizo, por favor.
I have the sausage. You have the fingerprint?
- Guys, we are on TV. - What?
The authorities are looking for us as we speak.
Police are headed right this way.
The bank manager is headed
straight to the vault, with the keys.
Who ordered the thumbrizo?
Okay. Oh, yeah.
Should be hot enough to mimic
heat distribution over flesh.
Happy... heads up.
Okay.
He's trying keys, guys.
Okay.
Okay, I got it. Pull me up.
Hi.
Have a sausage.
Policia!
Guys,
we gotta get out of here.
Come on, let's go.
Where the hell is he?
There.
I hate it here!
Pilot's on approach.
Rendezvous point's 15 minutes away.
- At this speed we'll never make it. - I'm giving it
everything she's got, which ain't much.
We need a shortcut.
Sylvester, what did the guidebook say
about the island geography?
Page 47, "Getting Around."
"The old colonial byway, which cuts across the island,
provides a lovely rural tour of Cuban farm life."
Should be three kilometers north.
Hang on to your lunch!
There's the plane.
We're gonna make it.
Stop the car, he's getting away!
By the time I turn around in here,
- he's gone. - Hey, hey, hey.
We go after him, we'll miss our one shot to get back.
You promised me we'd get him.
We have 23 of 24. The greater good...
Who cares about the greater good?
Guys, we all know what the stakes are
if we miss that plane.
Okay, Sonia, let's go.
Policia's coming. I can't wait for these guys any longer.
If you lift off without my team,
I will never allow you to land on U.S. soil again.
You killed my family, and now I can kill you.
But I'm better than you.
I have more humanity than you ever will.
I'm proud of you,
But we still gotta hustle.
Let's go.
Zoric will face charges
of crimes against humanity
for his role in the genocide. A confiscated ledger has led
to the search for 23 other Serb war criminals.
Director of Homeland Security
Adriana Molina authorized the mission and will be meeting
with the press shortly.
Another day, not another dollar.
But somehow, I feel good about it.
Maybe because you're a decent human being.
- No, that's not it. - So, you yelling at me
on the telephone pole...
the whole exposure therapy game...
you were just trying to get me
to admit that I've fallen in love with Megan.
Well, I have.
Well, I'm sorry I was so tough on you, but it feels good
to say you love someone out loud, don't it?
You were a good doctor,
you know that.
May I make another observation?
You took me on as a pet project
not because you had free time since Happy put you on a shelf.
You did it because you were a child
with two parents, but you were still very lonely.
And you can't stand to be alone with yourself.
How about you let me be the doctor, okay?
Fair enough.
I'm off to see Megan.
Knock her dead, meat.
See you later, pal.
Yeah, later...
pal.
I would've killed Zoric today if it wasn't
for what you said to me.
You saved me for the second time.
I don't have to be brave anymore.
I'll miss you.
Take care of yourself, sweetheart.
Paige.
- A moment? - Sure.
You've often said that I need to accept emotionality.
But high emotions, almost blew this case
in the barbershop and then chasing after Zoric
was an emotional decision
that could've landed us in prison,
so we're lucky that it worked out
the way that it did.
- You're right. - So what's the answer?
Is it emotion? Logic? It's frustrating
- that you seem to feel both. - It's frustrating
you think it can be solved like a theorem.
Let me tell you a story, okay?
When Ralph was three, we got evicted.
Our stuff at the curb was picked clean.
Logic dictated
that I not cry in front of Ralph, or I'd scare him,
so I took his hand, we walked for blocks with nowhere to go.
Then I saw a diner with a "help wanted" sign.
I needed that job more than anything,
but if I had
acted emotional instead of composed during my interview,
I wouldn't get hired,
so with my last two dollars, I bought Ralph an ice cream,
and sat him in the booth while I talked to the owner.
I got the job, convinced him of an advance.
And that night, at a motel,
once Ralph went to sleep, you know, I...
I cried my eyes out.
Because that was the right time for emotion.
Do you understand?
No.
No, I-I wish that there was a formula,
like, 90% logic,
10% emotion.
You're smart enough to know
there isn't.
Oh, and by the way,
you didn't take today's job
for the greater good... 100,000 versus 24
or whatever... you took it because
you saw a woman in desperate need.
Y-You took it because Cabe
asked us to, as our friend.
You were affected...
here.
And until you can admit that,
you will never move forward.
Anyway, I gotta go pick up Ralph.
We're hitting Kovelsky's for some breakfast.
Breakfast?
It's almost evening.
I know.
It's totally illogical.
Hey, Walt, you want to grab...?
Damn you, Sylvester.
Hey, Cabe, you want to grab dinner?
Why not? I know a Cuban place.
How about a good ol' American hamburger, huh?
- Even better. - Yeah.
On the night in question, Your Honor,
I was uncharacteristically affected by my emotions.
As a result, I drove in a negligent manner.
So I plead guilty and accept my sentence
of community service.
I thought I was tougher than this.
Since Happy put me on ice, I've felt pretty rotten.
Yeah?
Well, that ought to make you feel better.
Missed a piece.
Hecklers.
You gotta love 'em.
Name's Ray. Ray Spiewack.
Uh... Walter.
- Oh, good on you, Wally. - Okay.
Oh, man.
Dead night crawler.
It's a majestic creature.
Aw, really bums me out to see 'em dead like this, Wally.
You know, sometimes,
I-I... I just, I feel...
too much. You know what I mean?
No.
Yeah.
Yeah, sometimes.
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